


is it the same for you?

by shuhannon



Category: Parks and Recreation, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, BB8 is Li'l Sebastian, Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Jar Jar Binks is Jerry, Light Angst, POV Alternating, POV Kylo Ren, POV Rey (Star Wars), Rey is 20 and Ben is 30, This is way angstier than I thought it would be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuhannon/pseuds/shuhannon
Summary: Everyone’s afraid of him. Everyone walks on eggshells around him, watches what they do or say. No one makes eye contact, no one speaks to him more than the bare necessities.Everyone except her, that is.She’s not afraid of him. She’s not afraid of going toe to toe. It doesn’t matter to her that he’s the city planner while she’s picking up hours for college credit. It doesn’t matter that she hasn’t even been employed there a full year, after busting her ass as an intern.After all, his seniority doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.***a reylo/parks and rec au
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 27
Kudos: 211





	is it the same for you?

**Author's Note:**

> i'm watching parks and rec for the first time, and somehow ended up writing this. this also ended up being longer than a lot, and a little bit angstier than i intended. whoops.
> 
> thank you so much to [jgoose13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jgoose13/pseuds/jgoose13) for being my beta!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182242012@N03/49601345938/in/dateposted-public/)

She hates him at first.

He’s sullen, always looking cross and cranky. His temper is infamous, to the point that the moment the door of his office slams shut, everyone is running, fleeing to hide, to take cover. He’s sent chairs hurling through the air, has punched through drywall, and has gone through more computers than anyone else in the building, thanks to his nasty habit of sweeping the top of his desk clean.

Everyone’s afraid of him. Everyone walks on eggshells around him, watches what they do or say. No one makes eye contact, no one speaks to him more than the bare necessities.

Everyone except her, that is.

She’s not afraid of him. She’s not afraid of going toe to toe. It doesn’t matter to her that he’s the city planner while she’s picking up hours for college credit. It doesn’t matter that she hasn’t even been employed there a full year, after busting her ass as an intern. 

After all, his seniority doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.

Soon it’s not just his hissy fits that are being whispered about. Their screaming matches can be heard all the way down at City Hall. When he dishes it out, she gives it right back. She stares him straight in the eye, puts her finger in his face, and attempts to put him in his place. She calls him out on all of his bullshit, on the way he treats his staff, to the way he doesn’t seem to even care about the people that his job affects.

She’s not sure when the tide turns, when her words finally seem to break through his thick skull. She couldn’t pinpoint the turning point on a timeline, only knows that it was a gradual shift, something subtle and slow.

At some point they shifted from enemies, to cordial coworkers, to friends. 

The screaming matches maintained, but now they were accompanied by teasing jokes and elbow jabs. Now when names were called, she did nothing more than roll her eyes and try to hide her smirk. Now when he took things too far, he came back with his tail between his legs, peace offerings of the food variety in his hands.

They begin to hang out more. At first it’s just in each other’s offices. Soon she finds excuses to swing by, papers in hand that don’t really mean anything, but they look official if their boss would walk by. He begins to drop in at her cubicle, to go cups of coffee in hand. No longer does he have to check what she wants, no longer does he ask for a text message entailing her order. He knows exactly what to get her; a venti white chocolate mocha, hold a shot, extra pump of syrup, and extra whipped cream with chocolate shavings.

It’s a lot, but then again so is he.

In return, she knows he hates the coffee at the kiosk in the lobby, but instead prefers it from the cafe around the corner. He likes it plain, black with no sugar, no cream. She always wrinkles her nose as she watches him sip it, always teases that she’s going to pump vanilla syrup into it, that she’s going to request whipped cream with a caramel drizzle.

But in the end, she never does. After all, their friendship isn’t about changing one another. No, instead it’s more about figuring out how to coexist, how to stay the same but work together.

***

“We should go out.” He suggests. “You know, after we’re done here.”

She tries to ignore the jolt she feels in her stomach, the way her heart gives a stuttering skip.

“Sure.” She mimics his causal tone, offers a small nonchalant shrug for good measure. “You have any place in mind?”

“Shooters should be open.” He shifts his grip on the rake, glances towards her before back down to the fallen leaves that litter the ground.

This had been Finn’s idea, to spend a Saturday helping clean up the parks they were supposed to represent. She had expected Ben to bail, to make comments and protests the entire morning but instead it had turned out to be a good day. The air was crisp, the sun was just beginning to set.

“Alright.” She ignores the way her stomach seems to drop. “I have to grab my bag from the office, but yeah. That would be cool.”

They’ve never hung outside of work. This is different, new.

She tries to ignore the questions that begin to spring up in her mind. After all, this doesn’t mean anything. Even if it did, it just meant their friendship was progressing. It was normal for friends to hang out, outside of work. People did it all the time. She grabbed food with Rose, had Finn and Poe over to her house, and didn’t even provide a second guess, didn’t even bat an eye.

So why would it be any different with Ben?

*** 

Dread fills her stomach as they cross the parking lot. It’s dark now. After eight. The sun has set, and the parking lot is full.

The bouncer stands by the door. Rey moves to brush past him, but he calls after her, throws an arm across the doorway to stop her from advancing.

“I’m twenty four.” She blurts out. Simultaneously she can feel her face flush. She knows her cheeks are bright red. Behind her she can feel Ben’s presence hovering behind her. 

“Then you have nothing to worry about. ID.” The bouncer sounds tired and bored. His arm remains across the doorway like an iron gate, his other hand is open, outstretched and waiting.

She can’t even spare Ben a glance as her fingers fumble with her bag, rooting through to find her wallet. She hands over her ID.

The bouncer rolls his eyes. “This says you’re twenty. You didn’t even bother with a fake?”

She mutters something about confidence under her breath as she grabs her license back. Her entire body feels too hot, but she tries to play it off, tries to act like everything’s fine, that she’s now feeling humiliated and embarrassed.

“I know another place.” Rey says, her voice a touch too loud as they aimlessly wander away from the bar, back towards the parking lot. “They never check. It’s not too far, just across town-“

“No, it’s fine.” She finally forces her eyes to look at him. He’s palming the back of his neck, not looking at her. “It’s actually getting late.”

It’s barely past eight, she thinks.

“Long day.”

They raked leaves for two hours and goofed off for the rest of the time.

“Look I’ll just see you Monday?”

They had driven separately, opting to just meet at the bar. Rey has barely begun to say her goodbyes when he’s already turning, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans, his back slightly hunched as she watches his retreating form.

She ignores the way her chest tightens. She tries to swallow down the lump in her throat. She doesn’t think about why tears begin to fall down her cheeks or analyze why she’s suddenly left feeling so empty inside.

Instead she drives home in silence.

***

Fifth grade. He was in the fifth grade when she was born. He was writing book reports on  _ Hatchet _ and  _ Bridge to Terabithia _ . He was being taught how to solve equations and what parentheses mean in math. He was being given the dreaded talk about puberty and changing bodies and she….

She was toothless, in diapers, being fed from a bottle and unable to speak.

His stomach feels sick.

How could he forget? How could he not do the simple math, to put two and two together? She’s fucking working for college credit. He can't help but curl his fingers into fists, and it takes every ounce of his self control to not send those fists straight through the drywall. 

He is stupid.  _ So fucking stupid. _

Ben does the only thing he can think of, the only thing that seems to make sense. He puts distance between himself and her. He doesn’t bring her coffee, doesn’t loiter by her desk. They don’t text, only email about work and keep the talking to the bare minimum.

It’s only then that Ben realizes just how much space she took up in his life. 

It feels strange to order one coffee, instead of two. Even when her order was too long, even when her beverage looked more like a dessert than a cup of coffee meant to jumpstart your day. 

He keeps forgetting too. He catches himself drafting up emails with memes (before her, he didn’t even know what a fucking meme was) or typing out a text, bitching about Poe’s latest idea or how he had to meet with the librarians over some issue or another, which meant talking to Hux and they both knew how much Ben hated that.

The hardest thing was correcting the habits, the little quirks that he hadn’t even realized had developed in the first place. The way he always looked for her out of the corner of his eye, how he would always scan the room, trying to spot her trademark buns and megawatt grin. How his gaze always seemed to flicker to her, to gauge her reaction, to see what she was doing, to just check in.

Now he could do nothing but keep his head bent, his eyes trained upon whatever handout they were given during meetings, or to his computer screen when he knew she was walking by. He could get through this. He had to. 

She was just starting her adult life. She had the whole world before her, was smart enough to make it far. He wasn’t about to fuck that up, wasn’t about to bury her with his baggage. He wasn’t going to hold her back.

So he keeps his head down. He orders one black coffee. He emails her, addressing her formally and not typing a single extra word. He gets to the office early, and stays late, eating all of his meals at his desk.

He turns back into a machine, going through the motions, his body and mind set to autopilot.

And it works, for a while.

***

She corners him.

It’s late. Nearly all the lights of the office have been turned off. Only his remains, a single lighthouse in the sea of dark. Even the janitor’s been through, emptying trash cans and vacuuming the carpet. 

He thought he was alone, as he stood, stretching his arms over his head and shaking out his hands, trying to get rid of the cramps from holding a pencil for so long. The plans were almost complete. He just needed to go over them once more, maybe tweak the design before sending it off to Holdo for final approval.

Ben’s toying with the idea of searching the break room for coffee. It’s terrible and tastes like shit, but right now he needs a final boost, a final jolt to his brain to just get through this last thing and get the work done.

He turns, and there she is, standing in the doorway of his office, her arms folded across her chest.

He hadn’t heard her approach, hadn’t heard the door swing open. He didn’t even know anyone was still here. It was nearly nine on a Friday night.

“You’re avoiding me.” She says point blank, her eyes lifting to meet his.

He freezes, panicked and uncertain of what to do, what to say.

Ben clears his throat before he finds his voice. “I am.” He doesn’t deny it, even as he scratches the back of his neck, as he slides his fingers through his hair, unable to shake the nervous tick.

“Why?” She steps towards him, and he steps back. His back meets the wall, and he has nowhere else to go, no more ground to retreat upon.

“You know why.” It’s a bullshit answer, vague without any certainty and conviction. And it pisses her off. He can tell by the way her brow furrows, the way her eyes narrow and she lets out a hot, angry puff of air.

“If I did, then I wouldn’t be asking.” She fires back, and his mind instantly goes back to their first fight, when she had stormed into his office, face red and arms flailing. At first, Ben wasn’t sure what he was more taken aback by; the fact that he was being yelled at by a woman who was barely a step above an intern, or the way he kept watching her mouth move and all he could wonder was what she tasted like.

He had been a goner from day one. He had never even stood a chance.

“Because-” It’s another terrible answer, and his mind is racing, trying to string together words that explain things without also explaining things.

“Because why?!” She interrupts him again, and now it is his turn to grit his teeth, to growl and exhale heavily through his nostrils. Because she’s always doing that, interrupting him, either his words or his thoughts.

“Will you let me finish?!” He snaps, fingers once more tugging at his hair. Sometimes, Ben wonders how he has any hair left, how he hasn’t pulled it all out from his scalp yet.

She’s silent, so Ben takes that as his chance to carry on.

“I just- I think it might be best if-” He works his jaw, and his hands are on his hips as his gaze drops to the ground. “You should hang out with people your own age. We should try to keep things professional between us.”

“My own age.” She echos, her voice flat.

“I just mean-“

“I know what you mean.” She cuts him off. “Is this about the stupid ID thing at the bar?” Her face is flushed, her arms crossed tighter over her chest. Ben won’t look at her, won’t catch her eye. Instead he fixates on some random spot on the wall. 

“No.” Because it’s not about that. Not really. Maybe that was what brought light on the situation, that reminded him of the obvious. She was still in college for fuck’s sake and he… No, this would be for the best.

“Bullshit.” She works her jaw, jutting it forward, and he notices the way her hands begin to shake, the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the next.

“Rey-“ Against better judgement, he steps forward, arm outstretched though he soon catches himself. What is he going to do? What is there left to do, to say?

“It’s fine.” Her face says otherwise. But she’s already turning on her heel, making her way out of the office.

The room suddenly seems empty without her presence.

It’s for the best, Ben tells himself as he fights against every instinct to go after her, to take it all back and try to make things right. It’s for the best, he repeats over and over in his mind as he sits back down behind his desk.

It’s for the best, he recites as he picks up his pencil, bows his head and resumes his work.

***

She tries to forget him. She tries to move on.

As if there was anything to move on from. They’re colleagues, barely friends. This isn’t a break up. This isn’t the lost love of her life. No, this is putting space between two people who sometimes texted and sometimes got coffee together and occasionally discussed non work topics while at work.

She was nothing to him. And he…. he…

Rey begins to eat lunch with Finn and Rose in the courtyard. She begins to hang out with them too, sometimes after work, sometimes on the weekends. And they’re fun. They both recently graduated and are just starting out in their respected fields. They get all her pop culture references and she doesn’t have to spend time explaining the difference between a meme and a gif. 

This is good, Rey keeps telling herself, even as her fingers itch to type out a text, a simple hey or how are you? This is good, she reminds herself as Rose invites her to a party that her sister, Paige, is throwing at their house. After all, Rose doesn’t care that she’s not twenty-one yet. 

“No ones going to card you in the kitchen.” Her new friend teases, and Rey forces herself to laugh, to shake her head as if she’s being silly, paranoid and ridiculous.

The party is within full swing by the time Rey shows up. She’s wearing jeans but a nice top, and has her new converse on opposed to the beat up ones with writing across the rubber toe. She’s attempted to put on eyeliner and do her hair, and she’s feeling pretty good about herself. She feels like she accomplished something, that she looks less like a Pinterest fail and more like the end result of an amateur youtube tutorial. 

She’s welcomed the moment she walks through the front door. There’s flashes of familiar faces sprinkled through the crowd, most from work. For a moment she feels a sinking in her stomach, a flash of panic and dread. Because what if he’s here…

The moment the thought enters her mind, Rey pushes it out. Him? At a party? No, that’s stupid. He would never. He’s probably still at the office, nose buried deep in sheets of drafting papers, fingertips stained with pencil.

She can picture him so clearly in her mind, broad back bent, the tip of his aquiline nose brushing against his paper, his mind lost in such concentration that it takes calling his name three times before he even notices she’s there.

No, Ben Solo would not be caught dead at a party like this. Mayor Organa rolling a joint in the living room would be more likely than the sullen city planner pumping the keg on the back deck.

She grabs a red solo cup, begins to drink the warm, foamy beer. She dances with Finn in the family room, chats with Rose by the stairs. She sings along when Mr. Brightside begins to play, shouting each word at the top of her lungs.

She’s drunk, and warm, as strands of hair damp with sweat begin to stick to her forehead, her neck, her cheeks.

But she feels happy. She’s having fun, making new friends. Rose’s sister is nice, and there’s a cute boy named Cal.

Downing the rest of her beer (was this her fourth? Fifth?) Rey moves through the throngs of people, making a beeline to the kitchen.

And he might not be out on the back deck pumping a keg, but he is standing in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop right beside the fridge.

Shit.

For a moment all she can do is stare. Sort of how when a car crash is about to happen, the image of what is beginning to unfold playing across your mind. And then it happens, but you can’t look away, can’t move, can’t blink, can’t do anything but stare.

So she stares.

It’s weird to see him in a kitchen straight from the nineties, dressed in black jeans and a dark tee.

She’s seen him outside of the office before, but it was always for work functions. Even when they were picking up litter on the playground he had dressed in business casual.

He was a distraction in button ups and ties. Already her brain was beginning to short circuit as it attempted to process the way his biceps strained against the cotton fabric of his short sleeves, and the way the black denim clung to his thighs.

_ Fuck _ .

His eyes snap to meet hers, and it is only then that Rey realizes she’s spoken out loud. Instantly she’s lifting her plastic cup to her lips, going to take a drink only to realize her beer is all gone. Right, her cup had been empty. That was why she was in the kitchen in the first place.

He’s staring at her now, frozen for a moment before he shifts, moving to adjust his grip on the edge of the countertop.

“They didn’t card me.” The words spill from her mouth, like a wheel on a hill. There’s no stopping it, no control, but instantly she’s flooded with regret.

“I didn’t think they would.” He speaks slowly, as if testing each word before it’s said. “But that’s good.”

He’s attempting to be cordial, trying to be polite. For some reason it annoys her. Maybe because she feels young, naive, while he gets to continue to play the role of mature superior. Maybe because it just feeds into the idea that they shouldn’t hang out.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” Rey tries for nonchalance, but her voice is an octave too hard. She makes a beeline for the makeshift punch bowl that’s situated on the kitchen table. It’s a giant plastic mixing bowl with a soup ladle bobbing in the middle. It’s a weird color, but Rey doesn’t care as she fills her cup with the unnaturally turquoise liquid. 

She takes a sip. It’s strong, a bit too sweet. Already she can feel the hangover that tomorrow will bring. She can feel his gaze on her. He hasn’t responded yet, and Rey knows that he’s watching, waiting. He’s probably hoping she’ll put her foot in her mouth once again, saving him from having to speak. She takes another long drink.

“Why is that?” He finally takes her bait, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. Only Ben Solo would be pretentious enough to drink bottled beer at a keg party.

She shrugs her shoulder, her gaze dropping to the counter top. There’s a sticky ring, the remnants of a sloppily poured drink, and she begins to trace the faint teal stain left behind on the beige, laminate surface. 

“I just mean-” Rey starts before stopping. Pursing her lips she takes another drink to buy herself some time. “This doesn’t seem like your, you know,  _ crowd _ .”

She can feel the coolness of his gaze, and she wants nothing more than to continue staring at this stain as if it’s the most fascinating mess she’s ever seen. But Rey has never been afraid to go toe to toe with Ben Solo before. She has never shied away from calling him out on his shit, and looking him square in the eye while doing so. She’s not about to start now.

Her chin tilts, and her eyes meet his. He’s annoyed. Tension is beginning to radiate from his body. His shoulders are slightly hunched and he’s working his jaw, the lip of his bottle hovering above his mouth though he has yet to take a drink.

She keeps going. She has to continue to push until every button has been hit. “Everyone just seems a little young here. For you.”

There is no reading between the lines. No inferences need to be taken. He has heard her loud and clear. She can tell by the way his grip tightens on his beer, the way he pushes off the counter and takes a step towards her.

At first, Rey freezes. He’s standing before her, leaning closer and closer.

For a moment, she thinks he’s going to finally do it. He’s going to cross that line. He’s going to kiss her.

But then he sets his bottle down on the counter behind her, and the sound of the glass making contact with the countertop ringing too loud in her ears.

“I graduated with Paige.” Ben retorts, his tone level but cool. “Most of the people here are closer to my age than yours.”

The nature of his words isn’t bad, but still it feels like a slap in the face, a sting. It’s another win for Solo, another tally on his side of the board. Just when Rey feels as if she has the upper hand, he somehow comes through with a three point lead.

“Oh.” It’s not even a proper response, but it’s the only thing Rey’s got. She drinks from her cup. Already the jungle juice is mixing poorly with the beer in her belly. Instead of stopping, of finding some water or even just going back to the cheap cans of Coors Lite that are in a cooler on the back deck, she continues to sip it. She’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow.

“Right.” He’s moving now, rolling his eyes and dismissing this conversation, dismissing her. For a moment Rey watches his back as he retreats from the kitchen.

She should just let him go. She should stay put, give him space. 

But her feet are already moving, taking her after him and Rey finds that she can no longer bite her tongue. She can’t go back to playing pretend, to smiling politely and exchanging cordial, work only emails.

She refuses to take three steps back, when they’ve already been on a goddamn hike.

“Hey!” Rey calls after him. The party is loud, music blasting from a couple bluetooth speakers, mixed with the loud chatter of drunk millennials, cause the single word to become lost in the shuffle. It only makes her feel more determined. 

His height is a help, not a hindrance, and Rey can only be thankful yet again for the fact he resembles more of a tree trunk than a normal human being. Except instead of climbing him, all Rey wants to do is catch up, maybe give his trunk a hard kick, or a vigorous shake. Maybe then that would knock some sense into him…

He ducks through a side door off of the foyer, and Rey’s right on his tail. The door has barely shut behind him and she’s reaching out, yanking on the doorknob and stumbling through the frame.

They’re in the garage. The door is shut and a dim overhead light that is a touch too white, only provides enough light that she can make out his form in the shadows.

“Stop doing that.” She steps towards him.

“Doing what?” Even in the dark, she can tell that he’s avoiding her, is looking everywhere and anywhere just to avoid her eye.

“Walking away. Leaving.” She doesn’t tell him how it hurts more than it should. Because of her past. Because of her parents, or well, the lack thereof. She doesn’t tell him about being shuffled through foster home after foster home, how even when she finally found a place that was alright or that she even liked, it never lasted. There was always another kid that needed the spot more, or overcrowding at the schools so someone needed to get moved around.

Always a reason, a piece of red tape that she would be packing her clothes in a trash bag, climbing in the backseat of her caseworker’s car, and ushered away.

She doesn’t need to tell him, because he already knows.

She can tell by the way his shoulders begin to relax, can tell by the way he softly murmurs her name. 

“Rey.” 

It’s all she needs. The only sign.

She wants to say she moves with beauty, determination and grace. But instead she flings her body at his, throws her mouth on top of his, and the kiss is desperate, needy, and tastes like cheap beer. She’s clinging to him like a liferaft in the middle of a stormy sea.

The moment she feels his body tense, feels how still his mouth is beneath her own, she knows it’s a mistake.

His hands encircle her wrists, and gently he begins to tug her arms down from around his neck. He treats her with kindness and care, as if she’s made of glass and the last thing he wants to do is cause her to crack.

But already she is breaking.

She can’t look at him, even in the darkness of the garage. Her lips are pressed into a tight line, trying to hold back the cry that’s bubbling in her throat. Breaking down, turning into this drunken mess is the one thing she wanted to avoid.

Yet apparently she’s a masochist. She loves to torture herself, which is why she’s even in this situation in the first place.

“I should go,” He tells her, his head ducked down close to her. He speaks quietly, and she can feel his breath like the warm whisper of a breeze against her cheek.

She doesn’t try to stop him. She doesn’t try to follow him. She doesn’t even watch. Instead she feels the loss of warmth from his body, hears his retreating footsteps as he slips back into the house.

Rey continues to stand there. And only after enough time has passed, only after she’s certain he has left, she allows herself to cry.

***

It’s the hardest thing Ben has ever had to do, to walk away from her.

But it’s the right thing. She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, what she’s saying.

No, leaving is the right choice. The hard thing to do, but the best option nonetheless.

She’ll forgive him for always being the retreating figure, of giving her nothing but the sight of his back as he walks away.

She’ll understand. Some day.

***

Poe volunteers every member of the Parks department to work the town’s very first Harvest Festival. It’s supposed to help with their budget, and bring notoriety to the usually invisible section of local government. There’s different booths sponsored by local companies and organizations, rides, and a stand devoted entirely to a miniature pony called Lil BB, though Ben has no fucking clue why one animal can garner so much damn attention.

It’s a fucking  _ horse _ .

Ben walks around the carnival grounds all day, the word “Staff” sprawled across the back of his tee shirt, a sullen expression etched into his face.

So far he’s had to deal with two screaming children, three lost families, a pair of teenagers that were attempting to make out behind the port-o-potties, of all fucking places, and he’s picked up so much garbage, he’s debating changing his name to Oscar.

All the while, he’s avoided her at all costs.

She’s kept her distance. Things are cooler between them now. Still polite and professional, but there’s been this shift in the air.

Part of Ben had hoped she would be too drunk to remember what happened in the Tico’s garage. That they could try and salvage  _ something _ , even though it was hard to define just what that would look like. He had vetoed friends, had turned around and left when she had tried for it to be more. Yet just colleagues wasn’t enough.

It was all such a complicated mess.

“We’ve got a problem.” Finn comes running up to him, out of breath. “Poe wants everyone to meet by the ring toss. Emergency meeting.” Then he’s off, disappearing through the crowd to relay the message to everyone else.

Why he didn’t think to just send out a group text, Ben did not know.

Rolling his eyes, he takes his time. Poe’s definition of an emergency had a great range, from dogfight in the sky, to he ran out of hair product and was about to go on local access television.

The latest emergency falls somewhere in between.

“Lil BB is missing.” Poe declares, his voice hushed as if mass panic would break out if the town of Yavin discovered a miniature pony was missing.

“But it’s okay.” Their brave leader carries on. “We’re going to split up. Finn and I will take the corn maze. Rose, Kay and Tallie split up and walk the perimeter. Mitaka’s already checking the parking lot incase he got past the entrance gate.”

Everyone begins to disperse, taking their assignments very seriously, leaving Ben and Rey standing, still waiting on Poe.

“You two. Head to the ferris wheel.” He jerks his thumb in the direction of the ride, lit up and bright against the night’s sky. 

“The ferris wheel!?” Rey steals the words straight from the tip of his tongue. “I don’t think Lil BB is riding the ferris wheel, Poe. He’s tiny, but I doubt he would fit.”

“No, I know that.” Poe’s tone is impatient, as if the fact that a horse wandering around a carnival is the biggest disaster to happen since the Galactic Civil War occurred in the town square a good two hundred years ago. 

“But at the top of the ferris wheel you’ll have a view of the entire grounds. You should be able to see Lil BB from there.”

Ben raises a hand, rubbing his temples at the sheer insanity of the situation he’s currently in. He has to ride a ferris wheel with the woman he’s been avoiding and in return who has been avoiding him, all for the sake of… a miniature pony?

“For fuck’s sake.” Ben’s thinking the words, but they slip from Rey’s lips. Now she’s the one rolling her eyes, though she turns to head in the direction of the ferris wheel.

For a moment Ben freezes, just standing there, as if he’s uncertain of what to do.

But then Rey pauses. She doesn’t turn, doesn’t even glance over her shoulder as she calls back to him. “Are you coming!?”

It’s not exactly friendly, but it’s a step in the right direction.

So he follows after her.

***

“This is fucking ridiculous.” Ben mumbles as the ride starts up. Their gondola creaks and sways as Rey leans forward. Instantly he closes his eyes, his knuckles pale as he grips the metal bar with all of his strength.

“Can you not?” He grits his teeth, but he can feel her shifting beside him, settling back in her seat, causing their cart to to give another lurch.

“I didn’t know you hated rides.” Her tone is cool. He can almost picture her too, arms folded across her chest and her jaw jutted slightly to the side.

“I don’t.”

A pause. “Then why-”

“I hate heights.”

She lets out a laugh, the sound bursting from her lips with a sarcastic snort. “Sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry. “I just- I mean your dad’s a  _ pilot _ .”

Ben turns to her, opening his eyes and forcing himself to focus just on her face. Maybe if he can look at just her and ignore the rest, maybe then he can forget the fact that the ground is two hundred feet away.

“If you got taken up in a tiny plane that kept doing barrel rolls and nose dives when you were five, you might not like heights either.” He mutters under his breath, clearly bitter and annoyed.

She pauses for a moment, and Ben watches as she looks out over the fairgrounds below. “Actually, I would have loved that.”

He knows she would have. Han would have enjoyed it too, hearing shrieks of joy coming from the cockpit instead of Ben’s blood curdling screams followed by the sound of puking.

They’re silent. The ferris wheel continues to groan as their gondola continues to rise. Ben feels himself beginning to adjust, to relax. He still grips the safety bar, but his hold starts to loosen, and he feels the blood beginning to circulate in his hands. 

“I didn’t know you hated heights.”

Her statement is met with silence.

“I would have told Poe to-”

He cuts her off. “Poe knows.” After all, Ben has known Poe since they were kids. Their parents were friends, went way back. For the longest time, Poe was his closest friend. They went to school together, were on the same swim team, and took summer trips to Galaxy’s Edge, the amusement park that was just an hour’s drive north.

Poe rode all the rollercoasters. Ben sat on benches, doodling away in the notebook he always carried in his back pocket. They teamed up for games, went head to head on the bumper cars, and if Ben was in a really good mood, he could usually be persuaded to go on the log flume ride.

Poe knew that Ben hates heights. He just didn’t particularly care. Not when his career was on the line. Ben can’t really judge him. After all, it’s not like he could say that he wouldn’t have done the same.

“Oh.”

His eyes flicker to her once more. He studies the way her head is slightly bent, her chin tucked in towards her chest. She’s pulling on the hem of her tee shirt, a dark thread rolling back and forth between the pads of her pointer finger and thumb.

“Then why did you come? You don’t exactly have a track record of listening to Poe.” Rey finally asks, turning to face him. The cart begins to sway, and for a moment Ben has to close his eyes. He swallows, breathing heavily through his nose until the nerves begin to subside. 

“I couldn’t just- I mean-“ He starts and stops so many times that even Ben can’t figure out what he’s trying to say. “I hate this.” He finally settles on, releasing the safety bar to motion between them. “I hate things being like this between us.”

She shrugs her shoulders, her teeth digging into her lower lip.

“I know I started this- I just-“ Ben rakes his fingers through his hair, pushing his locks back over and over again. “I miss you. I liked being your friend, Rey. I just- I didn’t want any lines to get crossed. I didn’t want-“

Now it’s his turn to trail off. For her to fill in the blanks.

And she does. He can tell by the way her gaze drops as her teeth release her lip, the flesh pink and slightly swollen. “I’m sorry.” Rey finally meets his gaze. “For the garage. I was drunk. I know that’s a shitty excuse but-“ She shrugs again, as if to say ‘that’s the best I’ve got’.

Ben takes it. After all, she’s not the only one unable to fully explain their actions.

“Can we start over?” Ben glances hesitantly towards her, as he begins to shift in his seat. Immediately he regrets the movement, as the gondola pitches forward before rocking back.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want to start over.” 

He feels his stomach drop, and Ben knows it’s not from the way the Ferris wheel begins to rotate again.

“But I’m willing to try again.” Rey carries on. “I want us to be friends.”

Friends. Ben can do friends.

She offers him a hesitant smile, and he mirrors her expression in return.

The Ferris wheel jerks to a stop. The lights go out. Ben lets out a string of swear words. They’re stuck at the very top. It’s Ben’s worst nightmare. One of the reasons he avoids carnivals and their shitty, uninspected rides. 

But he feels her palm sliding over the back of his hand, and he begins to relax. Not a lot, but enough. 

“It’ll be okay.” She tells him, and Ben believes her.

Maybe things won’t be so bad. Because at least now he has Rey as a friend.

***

Lil BB is found in the center of the corn maze. The power returns to the Ferris wheel, and everyone makes it off in one piece, though Rey wouldn’t be surprised if Ben didn’t have calluses on his hands from gripping the safety bar so hard for so long.

The Harvest Fest is a success. The treasury for the Parks department is full, and now she can count on Ben Solo as a friend.

It’s a good thing, their friendship. Maybe it’s not the perfect scenario but it’s better than what was.

They fall back into a familiar routine. The morning coffee trips resume, as do the prolonged visits to his office. They argue, they bicker, they joke.

It’s nice. 

Rey ignores the feeling that something is still missing, that one final piece of the puzzle needing to be found.

This is good enough. And since when does Rey ever mess with what’s good enough?

This isn’t a perfect world. This isn’t a movie or a book. Good enough sometimes is just that, good enough.

***

“Dameron.”

“Solo.”

Rey ducks around the corner, effectively hiding herself from Ben or Poe’s view, all while still capable of hearing their conversation.

She’s not sure  _ why _ she hides. Maybe because Ben never starts a conversation, let alone one with Poe. Maybe because she’s still jittery around him, her steps shaky on the tightrope of being his friend while attempting to keep her own feelings in line. She doesn’t want to make things weird again. She doesn’t want to lose him entirely.

So she tries not to stare, to study the way his nose dips and his lips curve. She tries to not count the freckles on his face, to gawk at the way the buttons strain in an attempt to keep his shirt together, and how his sleeves stretch so tight against his biceps sometimes, Rey’s surprised they don’t bust at the seams.

No, she can keep her feelings at bay, can keep this strictly just what it is; a friendship.

Nothing more. Not an inch in one direction or another.

Still, she hides from Ben. Her heartbeat is racing, but that’s nothing new. It always does when she sees him, like she’s some hormonally imbalanced teenager who can’t keep her emotions in line.

There’s an awkward silence, which Poe thankfully breaks. “You need something?”

“No.” Ben pauses. “Yes.” The single word sounds as if it’s being ripped from his tongue through gritted teeth.

More silence. Rey can picture them now. Poe’s probably got his arms folded behind his head, a cocky smirk on his face. Ben never asks Poe for anything. Even though he  _ is  _ Ben’s boss. Even though it would be perfectly natural to go to your office superior for answers.

Ben would rather ask Mr. Binks a question than Poe. And Mr. Binks ruins  _ everything. _

This has to be good.

She hears Ben clear his throat, can hear his body shifting weight from one foot to the next. 

The sound of an impatient pen tapping against a desk is heard, followed by a small growl, which Rey assumes is from Ben.

Then… “Is there a rule? You know. For uh, asking someone out? Someone younger. A lot younger.”

The words spill from his mouth like water from a freshly destroyed dam. 

Rey freezes. Her brain stops processing and she knows she should move. She knows she should stop eavesdropping. That it’s immature and rude and so many other bad things. Not to mention if she’s caught…

She stays put, hidden around the corner in the shadows.

A chair creaks. Poe is probably leaning forward, his elbows resting on the edge of his desk. Rey knows that he’s loving this. It’s one thing for Ben to come to him with a question but  _ this? _

“Solo are you asking me for  _ dating advice?! _ ” The glee is apparent in his voice. He’s trying not to laugh, and for that Rey has to offer Poe some kudos. He’s an asshole, yes, but apparently not entirely a douchebag.

There’s hope for Dameron yet.

Ben mumbles something low, underneath his breath. Rey can’t make it out, apart from a couple swear words and a rushed, ‘ifyoutellanyoneIwillkillyou.’

“Got it. Sorry I just-“ Poe snorts before he calls after Ben, the latter presumably having turned to walk away.

“Ben, Ben, Ben. Stop. Wait. I’ll help you. How old is the lucky lady? Over eighteen?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re fine. Legally there’s nothing to worry about.”

The unspoken ‘but’ lays heavily in the air. 

“But?” Ben presses.

“But there’s the social stigmas to think of. How old is she?”

More silence. Ben must be giving Poe a dirty look. 

“C’mon, Solo. I’m not asking for her social security number. Just her age.”

“She’s almost twenty-one.”

Poe lets out a whistle, but the sound dies off abruptly. “Alright, alright. Don’t be so damn touchy, I get it. Answers with no commentary.”

There’s more creaking as a desk chair shifts. “This is actually pretty easy. Divide your age by half and add seven.”

“You’re shitting me.” Ben deadpans.

“I’m not. Seriously! Don’t believe me, google it. Do the math, and that’s the youngest society accepted age for a person that you can date.”

There’s a mumbled thanks, followed by the beginning sounds of retreating footsteps.

Rey begins to move too. She’s been standing there for too long. The hallway is usually busy. She’s pushing her luck already at not being found.

“Solo, at least answer me this.” Poe calls out, causing Rey to once again go still. “Why do you even care? You’ve never given a shit about what others thought about you before. You’ve always done whatever the fuck you want.”

“This isn’t just about me, Dameron. It’s about her too.”

Her.

The girl. The almost twenty year old who Ben wants to ask out.

“Rey?”

She jerks her head up, and immediately smiles politely. “Hey Tallie. What’s up?” She tries to act normal, casual, as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingertips brushing against her warm cheeks.

“I’m on vacation next week.” The ashy blonde says warmly. “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday since I can’t make it to your party.”

Rey returns the smile with one of her own. “Thanks. You’ll be missed but I hope you have a good time off.”

“I will.” The other woman nods, before she begins to go. “I almost forgot. How old are you going to be?”

“Twenty-one.” For some reason the thought of turning another year older sends a shiver down her spine, a warmth floods from her cheeks, to her fingertips, to the tips of her toes.

“Well, have fun. But not too much. Make sure you get lots of free shots!”

“I will.”

But the last thing Rey cares about is free drinks.

No, for her birthday she would much rather have something else.

***

It’s Finn’s idea to throw her a party.

“When’s the last time you celebrated your birthday with more than a free pizza from Babu’s and a movie marathon?”

Her silence is enough of an answer. 

Rey has never been big on birthdays. She never really had a party, never even expected a candle jammed into a cupcake, let alone anything with balloons and matching themed napkins and plates. 

Rey just never looked forward to a day that was meant to be celebrated and cherished, full of stories of how you’ve aged and changed, coated with nostalgic tales of your birth. She had a birth date and a first name. That was all her parents had ever given her, all she had of them.

But for the first time, Rey was looking forward to turning another year older.

Twenty-one. It was the last hurdle. No longer did she have to be worried about being carded at bars, or wonder if her fake ID looked accurate enough. She was shedding the final stage of immaturity, exchanging it for the mature, adult life of a twenty-one year old.

Ben was always going to have almost a decade on her. There was nothing to be done about making her older, or knocking years from his life. But right now, until November came around, she was twenty-one and he was thirty. Nine years suddenly seemed a lot less than ten, especially after the conversation she had overhead him sharing with Poe.

So she kept her mouth shut as Finn took the reigns, began to plan out every detail, figuring out the where’s and when’s and who would be all involved.

“Do you want to invite the whole office? Or just a smaller group?” He asked one day as they took their lunch break, munching on sandwiches in the courtyard outside of the brick city council building.

Rey gave a shrug, taking her time to chew thoughtfully. “Just invite everyone. I’m sure some people won’t come, but that way we don’t have to deal with anyone getting hurt that they’re not invited.” As if anyone would care. To be honest, Rey didn’t even care. She just needs one person to show up.

The invitations are emailed. The date is circled on her calendar, and Rey spends the weeks leading up to it stressing about what she’s going to wear, how she’s going to do her hair.

“Leave it down.” Jannah suggests as they crowd around the bathroom vanity in Rose’s house, all trying to share the mirror while getting ready for the big night. “You always have it pulled back at work. Do something different.”

Kay adds some waves, and Paige offers to do her eyeliner. Everyone’s fussing over her, suggesting shades of eyeshadow or reading out names of lipstick and making Rey guess the color.

_ So this is what it feels to be loved,  _ Rey can’t help but think, as she looks around at all the faces in the bathroom. And to think this is just a fraction of the people in her life. This is just a small group.

She’s grinning ear to ear, excitement surging through her veins. She laughs and allows herself to be doted on and dolled up. She borrows an outfit from Kay, and when she looks in the mirror she almost can’t believe that the woman looking back at her is, well,  _ her. _

They all pile into an Uber, and are whisked off to a bar downtown. 

Everyone begins to sing a round of ‘happy birthday’ as she steps through the door. Rey laughs, her cheeks beginning to ache from smiling so hard for so long. 

Already her eyes are scanning the crowd. She spots Finn, Poe and Holdo, and even Phasma and Hux from the library are in attendance. Mr. Binks is waving, looking terribly shiny in a shimmering silk shirt that is probably older than Rey herself. 

And then she sees him, hanging back in the corner at a high top table, nursing a beer. His eye catches her, and he raises his glass, a small smirk on his lips.

She feels her smile growing wider, despite the protest of her cheeks. 

Someone’s handing her a drink, and she’s being swept off into the crowd. But that’s okay. Because he’s here.

Rey makes the rounds. She gives out hugs, and kisses cheeks. Shots keep getting bought in her honor. Nonetheless, she persists, slowly making her way over to where Ben is still standing beside that high top table, his beer glass now nothing but dregs of froth. 

“You came.” She feels warm, her face flushed but she’s not sure if it’s due to the amount of people or how much she’s drank or just because she’s here with him.

“Yeah.” He nods his head slowly, one hand resting on the table top while the other lifts to scratch idly at the back of his neck. “I came.”

Then she’s moving towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she draws him down into an embrace. She feels his hand tentatively touching the small of her back, the contact light but enough that she feels the heat eating away at the fabric of her top, sinking into her skin where it lingers, even after they’ve parted and his arms have dropped back down to his sides.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Rey tells him, her voice a touch too loud over the sound of the bar around them. Someone’s started up karaoke, and Poe’s doing his best Freddie Mercury impression, though what he lacks in singing ability he makes up with stage presence.

Someone from the crowd lets out a whoop, and Rey’s pretty sure it sounds like Finn.

But the entire time she’s looking at Ben, studying his expression, his posture. 

“Hey. Do you want to maybe- I don’t know, get some air?”

Relief washes over his face, but his eyes dart behind her, to the bar packed full of people, all here for Rey. “Are you sure? Your party-”

“It’s my birthday.” Rey shrugs. “I get to do what I want.”

She slips her hand into his, and Rey is amazed at how natural the action feels, how right. She begins to lead the way, slipping out through the side entrance and into the small alleyway between buildings. It’s quiet, or as quiet as downtown Yavin can be. A few cars whizz by, but sheltered between brick walls, Rey feels as if they have their own little corner of solitude. Where it can be just the two of them.

Their hands are still connected, her fingers still filling the spaces between his.

She doesn’t let go, and neither does he.

“Rey-”

“You didn’t give me my birthday gift.” She means it as a joke, but the words come out more breathy, more nervous, as if everything is hanging in the balance of this moment. In a way, it is. After all, how long have they tiptoed around this? How long have they begun to cross the line, only to retreat in full haste?

She doesn’t want to just be his friend.

She steps towards him, and she feels a rush as his tongue darts out, the tip soft and pink as it wets his lips. 

“You did get me something?” She begins to slowly crowd him, begins to invade his space. But he stays still, strong and steady like a boulder against a stormy sea. “You can’t just show up to a birthday party empty handed.”

“I didn’t buy you anything.” The deep rumble of his voice sends chills down her spine. It’s one of the things she always liked about him. Even when she disagreed with every word that fell from his lips, she could always get lost in the dark baritone. 

“But-” He continues, licking his lips once more. “I do have something to give you.” 

Rey tilts her chin, and now he’s moving towards her, hovering above her, shoulders slightly hunched and neck bent. His head is dipping down towards hers, and Rey can feel the pulsating pull, can feel their bodies being drawn together.

Their lips touch.

This kiss doesn’t taste like cheap beer. It feels desperate, but in a different way than when Rey had flung herself at him, sloppy and drunk in Rose's garage.

No, this desperation is different. It’s something more hungry, more needy, tied to their existence like the air in their lungs and the blood pumping in their hearts, their veins.

Her lips part and his mouth greedily opens, ready to taste her. Tongues clash. She presses against him, keeps propelling their bodies forward until she hears him grunt as his back makes contact with the brick wall. Still, she presses into him more.

His hands envelope her in the same way his mouth does, needy and wanting. She can feel the pads of his fingertips running along her spine, digging into her hips, raking along her scalp as her brown locks become threaded around each of his thick digits.

In return she’s touching him everywhere, all the places she had studied and watched for so long, had wondered how his chest would feel beneath her palms, if his hair would be soft against her skin. 

It’s somehow both everything she has imagined, yet at the same time the real thing has caused her fantasies to pale in comparison.

She feels him growing hard beneath his jeans. In response she grinds against him, rubbing her core against his. He moans, the sound muffled and swallowed by her lips, her tongue.

She eats him up, every noise he makes, every swipe of his tongue. She devours it all and it’s still not enough.

“We should go.” Rey finally breaks apart for air. She reaches out, gripping his shoulder to try and find purchase, to find an anchor to hold onto as her head begins to float away. “We should get out of here.”

He’s kissing her neck, sucking and biting at the flesh, most likely leaving behind a mark but Rey finds that she doesn’t care. She merely tilts her head, arching her neck and giving him better access.

Her panties feel wet. Her thighs press together, her clit seeking friction and pressure, but it’s not enough.

Mentally Rey curses for wearing a jumpsuit instead of a dress.

“It’s your party.” Ben reminds her, his voice muffled as his lips move against her skin. “You can’t just leave-“

“Watch me.” Rey surprises herself at her tone. Everyone inside is drunk. They won’t care. The bar’s still open, the drinks are still flowing and Poe is still dazzling the audience with his karaoke routine made up of twelve top hits.

“I’m not- my place isn’t far.”

She nods, closing her eyes and trying to pull herself together. She can make it a couple of blocks to Ben’s house. She can get from point A to point B without jumping him, without shoving him against the wall and taking him right then and there.

In the end it’s a miracle they’re not arrested for public indecency.

They kiss the entire walk. It’s dark, and the streets of Yavin are thankfully almost empty. In the distance Rey hears a wolf whistle, maybe a cat call. Someone tells them to get a room.

But she doesn’t care. Because Ben’s mouth is on hers, and she’s touching him, tasting him and her birthday wish is coming true.

The door to his apartment is barely open when the clothes begin to fall. Vaguely Rey is aware of Ben using his foot to shut the front door. They’re standing in the foyer, and the layers are dropping to the floor: shoes and pants, her beautiful borrowed jumpsuit, and his belt, and tee.

Ben Solo is beautiful in his underwear. Truly a vision, his alabaster skin practically chiseled from marble.

She can’t get enough of him. Her mouth begins to wander, begins to worship every inch of him. Her hands find the waistband of his boxers, and she begins to tug them down.

His hands grip her arms, halting her motions.

Rey pulls back, lips swollen, eyes shining and wide. 

“We don’t have to- You don’t have to-“ He clears his throat, his hands shifting along the underside of her forearms. “If this is going too fast-“

“Solo.” Rey cuts him off. “I want this. I want  _ you _ .”

There a million things she could say, instances where she thought a moment like this should have happened, where she had wanted nothing more than an argument to be ended with a kiss.

Where she thought she was being so crystal clear with her intentions. Where she realizes, in retrospect, that he might have been relaying the same message right back to her.

They’ve wasted so much time. Bickering. Putting distance when they both had wanted such little space.

“I want  _ you _ , to be sure though.” Her hand momentarily cups his cheek before her fingertips skitter across his face, his jawline. “Twenty one isn’t a magic number. You’re still- you’re always going to be older than me, Ben. If that’s not something you’re comfortable with-“

He silences her with his lips. His mouth is soft, moves slowly against hers. Once again his arms loop around her waist, but the feverish movements from the alley have been replaced with something else. Something warmer, more certain and final.

This is an argument Rey is fine to surrender, is good with letting him win.

For there is no losing when you’re kissing Ben Solo.

***

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading this! all comments/kudos are appreciated! ♥️ for now this is a one shot, but i've already got ideas for what comes next for these two. XD perhaps i'll have to revisit this some day.
> 
> feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/shuhannon)


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